Thursday, October 6, 2011

One of Lesley-Anne's recent literature assignments was on poetry. The students had to study three poems and write their own rhyming poems following the same style and theme. Out of the three, the kids could choose the one they want to be graded as part of their final examination scores.

Lesley-Anne loves such assignments. I don't know how I managed to bear a daughter who adores poetry. When I was her age, I thought poetry was a blight on the literature landscape. Maybe it has something to do with my pragmatic heart - my daughter's probably more of a romantic soul than I am!

Morning has broken and I have brokenDown from your harsh words hurled at meAnd humiliation from your torments inFront of all who can see

But I can’t see, I’m blinded by the painYour words are knives cutting through fleshCausing pain like the burning, scalding fires of HellA punishment worse than death

But why punishment? For I’ve done nothing wrongI retreat to lick my wounds, praying that they’ll healBut they don’t. They fester and they rotAnd emit a pain I’ll forever feel

They say each morning brings a new beginningA blank canvas to start againA fresh start? Or a stale end?Is it still a start if it brings pain?

But as I crumble under your insultsI refuse to show emotionFor I know you would love to see me breakBut I won’t give you the satisfaction

With other kids it’s differentFor it’s not words they fearBut we are all in the same boatFor when the morning sun starts to appear…

They are beaten, scratched and clawed atUntil they taste something all too familiar— Blood, crimson and sweet, on the edge of their tongueCombined with the bitter emotion, fear

Their haunting, piercing, painful screamsEcho throughout the wallsA symphony of desperation,As eerie as an owl’s call

Their tormentors are like wolves tracking them downBefore going in for the killThey can smell your blood, sweat and tearsAnd won't stop till they've had their fill

But those children's wounds are superficialWhile mine are buried deepAnd it takes a herculean effortAnd lots of self-control to keepMyself from crying, as I’m backedInto a corner with nowhere to hideFor abuse need not be physicalTo kill you on the inside

She scored 24/30 for this. I'll also be posting the other two poems that she wrote as part of the assignment.

About Me

Writing is my profession and my passion. I own and run a professional writing agency, where I do all my corporate writing. Blogging takes care of the miscellaneous excess thoughts.
I'm a mother of two completely polar opposite children. Maybe God figures the challenge would do me good. Or perhaps He just likes to have a good laugh. Whatever it is, I'm enjoying the roller coaster ride.